


Is This What Happiness Is?

by snarkasaurus



Category: Spinning Silver - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 11:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: Miryem reflects on her life.





	Is This What Happiness Is?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taywen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taywen/gifts).



It’s been three years. Three years since the day the Staryk King followed Miryem’s customs, since he admitted his love for her, since they wed. Wed for real, not as the Staryk considered such things. It had been a...happy three years. Yes, happy was a very good word for it. Miryem was very happy. She could visit her family whenever she chose to do so; the Staryk kingdom was happy and thriving, though it was a different kingdom than it had been; and there were no more terrifyingly long winters holding Miryem’s world hostage. The little cabin had been expanded so that there was room for all of them: Miryem’s parents, Wanda and her brothers, and a room for Miryem and her Staryk King when they came to visit. 

And Miryem did come to visit quite a bit that first year. She hadn’t quite gotten over the forcible removal from her home, the desperate fear of never being able to see her family again. Even with those days and weeks spent with her family after Chernobog’s death, she felt fear and worry and desperate concern every time she was apart from them for longer than a few weeks. 

Her Staryk King was willing to let her go back, though, and made sure that she had her three with her. For Flek and Tsop and Shofer were all very much determined to stay close to her, even though they were no longer her servents. They were now her friends. Her companions. The two women helped her navigate the world into which she had been thrust, over which she now ruled, and Shofer kept her safe when she traveled. 

And so, now, three years later, there was a rhythm and pattern to their days. Her husband was devoted to her, and Miryem was devoted to him. It was not a state she had expected for herself, she had to admit. She’d fallen in love with him, she knew that. That was never a question. But to have the focus of his attention on herself in such an intense, deeply personal manner as their marriage, to have that come to their bed… Miryem found herself falling even more deeply in love with him and returning the depth of his emotions to a degree she had not previously expected herself capable. 

Her mother even remarked upon it one day not many months before. “Miryem, I have never seen you so happy as you have been these last months and years.” 

Miryem had blushed. “I am,” she said simply. She was too private a person to share much more, but there was no other way, truly, to share with her mother the way she felt. She knew it shined in her eyes, though, judging by the way her mother searched them. 

“He is good to you, then?” 

“He is.” 

“Are you...Miryem, are you sure? I am still so worried for you.” and Miryem knew her mother spoke the truth. There was much concern and worry from her parents, though it had eased over the passing of time. They had never forgotten that dreadful night of the battle between the Staryk King and Chernobog, of the desperate pulling on Miryem to keep her, of the need to chain the King. 

But neither had they forgotten the dying, broken wreck of the king that Miryem had brought them after she freed him from his bondage in the cell below the city. They hadn’t forgotten the way he watched Miryem, the way he’d done what she asked, the way he almost deferred to her and didn’t know why he was doing it, but didn’t seem to mind any more. 

No, they hadn’t forgotten any of it, but they were her parents. This was her mother, and as her mother, she was asking. And as her daughter, Miryem tried to reassure and help her mother understand why this was okay. 

“Yes, I am sure,” Miryem said quietly, coming to kneel by where her mother sat knitting by the fire. “I have a loving husband who cares for me very deeply. I have a companion to stand by my side, who cares for me, who defends me when it is necessary, and who has learned how to stand back and let me stand for myself.” She smiled slightly at the memory of the first time she had had to do so, after their true marriage in Miryem’s faith. It had been a fight afterward, but the making up had been...well. It had very much been worth it. 

“Do you remember how you first felt when you fell in love with my father?” Miryem asked instead of explaining her expression. “It is much the same with me and my king. But my king will not—” Miryem snapped her mouth shut around the words that threatened to break free. She loved her father dearly, but she had not yet forgiven him for the poverty to which he had driven his family, nor the fact that her mother had nearly died because of his refusal to do what he needed to do. 

“Your father did what he did and that is past. I am glad your husband is a good husband to you,” Miryem’s mother said, stroking her daughter’s hand gently. She hesitated for a moment, searching Miryem’s eyes for something, Miryem knew not what. “You are happy. Do you feel safe?” 

Miryem considered the question. She did not want to lie to her mother in this. This was a question coming from the place of a protective parent, wanting what was best for her daughter. This came from needing to know that her daughter would be cared for and protected for the rest of her life. This was needing to know, in at least a small part, that her mother and father had made the right decision in letting Miryem go instead of trying to fight her. “Yes,” she said quietly and firmly. “I am safe. The entire kingdom watches out for me and cares for what I do and that I am safe when I do it. My husband is very careful of me.” Perhaps too careful at times, but Miryem did not think of that. “I am safe.” 

Tension bled out of her mother and she sat back in her chair, turning her gaze to the fire. “I would believe you, Miryem. In this, I do not think you can lie to me.” She smiled slightly. “Or perhaps I do not want to believe you could. No matter, I choose to believe you.”

Miryem had smiled, risen, and the visit had drifted to lighter, gentler topics, like how big Stepon was getting and how much help he was to Sergey now that he was strong enough instead of just caring for the goats. The farm was thriving in the warm sun and proper length seasons, and it was clear that Miryem’s father was happier this way, farming (in the sense that Sergey did a very large portion of the work and taught her father to do what he could) instead of demanding money from people to whom he had lent.

And now, as she stood at the glittering ice window of their bedroom chamber, looking out over the brilliantly white world beyond, she wondered just what it was she was to do with her life now. The mountain was healed. The death and destruction of Chernobog had done more for the healing of the kingdom than even the King could have guessed. It had shifted the balance between the Staryk kingdom and the sunlit world so that there was no longer a dependence upon one or the other for seasons. The orchards within the mountains were all full of blossoming trees thick with fruit. The fish wells were all brimming with water and sleekly silver fish. Grains and vegetables and every other possible things that the Staryk could have wanted grew now in abundance. 

The kingdom prospered. 

“My Queen?” came a deep voice from behind her, and Miryem turned to see the King standing in a door. “It’s time.” 

Miryem smiled and crossed to him, taking the arm he offered her. “Thank you for helping Irena come visit so often. I am pleased that she enjoys coming.” 

“She could get here already,” the King said with a dry smirk. “The least I could do was give her a controlled way to do it. And she is Staryk in her own way. She does belong here.” He did not mention Mirnatius, but that was fine. Miryem had little use for the tsar herself. Irena ran the country, Mirnatius was the face, and her family was left in peace to prosper as they would. That was enough. 

“I am still grateful,” Miryem said, squeezing his arm lightly. “Let us go greet our guest.” 

And so they went, Miryem and her Staryk king to meet her friend Irena the Tsarina, in a land no longer suffering and dependent upon the frigid ice of the sunlit world. And all was well.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if this is not what you had in mind. Miryem insisted she wanted to be more introspective than I intended, and this...is what happened. I couldn't shake her from it. I do hope you enjoyed it, though! Happy Yuletide!


End file.
